


The Unwilling Master

by Alphinss



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Soul Eater
Genre: Angst, M/M, Master of Death, Master of Death Harry, Post-Deathly Hallows, Powerful Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2018-11-13 06:26:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11178951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alphinss/pseuds/Alphinss
Summary: Harry died. Or at least he thought he had. However, instead of finding the peace that he had hoped for, he is claimed by Death himself, as his Master. He’s resurrected and thrown into a world that he doesn't understand. Will Harry learn to control his new powers and live in a world that he does not recognise?





	1. Chapter 1

**AN:** Hey guys, this is just a little something that was on my mind. If you guys like it then I will write another chapter. If not then this will just be a little ramble. I hope you enjoy it :D

* * *

 

** Chapter 1  **

Harry raised a brow at the man-thing before him. The skull mask, the black cloak, the abnormally large gloves that seemed to appear and disappear at will. What the hell was this being and why the  hell had he brought his here. In fact, why did Harry let him. How had he thought that it was possibly a good idea to let this abnormal looking creature take him to an unknown location. The only conclusion was that he had finally lost it.

“Come Master, come. I can show you around” the thing said. It clapped its hands together in what Harry assumed was excitement. Although Harry could not be sure. The man had no facial expressions due to the mask, so it was hard to tell. Harry only gave a nod, following behind the creature that claimed to be death. 

Harry had died. He knew that he was dead and yet here he was following a being that he was now claiming him as his Master. Harry had been at King’s Cross Station, ready to pass over, ready to see his family again. However, as his tired feet pattered toward the nearest train, acceptance filling him to the brim, he had been blocked. The figure stopping him in his tracks, putting a hand on his shoulder. An oversized, gloved hand. It seemed as though the rest of his existence was going down hill from there. A babble of explanation about the deathly hallows, a quick resurrection and transportation to another world later and Harry was standing before an insane looking castle and a laughing sun, following death around. He felt like a lost puppy. 

Harry was lead through deserted corridors, twists and turns dictating his path. His feet steadily pattered after the being that walked before him. The pair finally reached the end of a long passageway. A large, majestic door stood before them. A skull, the same as the one that deathwore as a mask was situated on the door. In large letters below the words ‘Death Room’ were written. Harry wasn't sure that that was a good sign. Death opened the door, pulling them toward him with a creak. However, Harry was unsure as to whether his hands actually touched the wood at all. He would have to ask the being how to do that. 

Harry followed behind Death as he entered the room. Although he was not sure that it could be called that. As he stepped though the door, the wall surrounding it seemed to disappear. Sand replaced the stone floor and a blue sky was revealed above them; widows floating in the cloudless twinkling blue. Crosses littered the sand, standing mostly upright. Some were crooked wile other stood tall. Varying shapes, sizes and patterns littered the room and yet all were black. A path of grey made it’s way across the sand, like a scar, cutting through the landscape. It was this which they walked along. 

They finally reached a large platform. A mirror situated on it. Harry was shocked to look at his appearance. His hair was dark black and his eyes still a twinkling green. However his skin was an unhealthy white. It seemed that all the colour had been sapped from it. It was nearly transparent. Harry was sure that if he looked any closer then he would be able to see the blood pumping in his veins beneath the unhealthily pale skin. However Harry couldn't tear his eyes away. It was strange to see such a drastic change to his appearance.

“Master” Death’s childish voice broke though the concentration that Harry had on his own appearance. His eyes snapped back to the peculiar looking figure. “Would you take a seat Master?” Death questioned as he indicated to a seat. Harry had turned around to see two comfortable looking chairs, cushions littering them. A coffee table with a pot of tea and biscuits now sat between the chairs. Harry nodded, situation himself and letting the tension slip from his shoulders. 

“Tea, Master?” Death questioned. Harry gave another nod. A fresh cup was poured into a cup of delicate china. Harry added a small splash of milk before taking a sip. He let out a sigh of enjoyment as the heat spread across his tongue. He scrabbled for a biscuit, dipping the ginger snap in his tea before letting it melt on his tongue. He let the sugar pump though his veins, his brain thanking him for the temporary high. He let his eyes flicker shut for a second. Momentarily forgetting the responsibility that had so suddenly been thrust onto his shoulders. Death let Harry finish his tea in silence and Harry was grateful for that. As he let the last drops trickle down his throat he looked back up to the being before him. 

“I want to see you.” Harry whispered out. Death seemed to freeze under Harry’s demand. 

“What…what do you mean Master?” the being questioned, some of the friendly and childish tone that he had previously held, lacking from the words. Harry guessed that if the man had been without his mask the fear would have been visible on his face.

“Take it off; the mask, the cloak, the gloves.” Harry explained. His tone was demanding but not angry. “If I am to be your Master then I don't want any secrets. I’ve had too many in my life. I want to know who it is that I am to be the ruler of.” Harry said. He was tired of the lies that had always surrounded him. Now that he had the power for transparency he would be sure to take it. 

“Yes” Death said with a nod. He understood. He may not like it, but he understood. “Yes Master” he finished. He stood from the seat that he had occupied for the past ten minutes. The gloves were the first to go, they vanished into the air. The cloak came next as Death pulled it off with his now normal sized hands. Finally with one final flourish,the mask was pulled off. 

Before Harry stood a tall man, towering above Harry’s five foot ten at a massive six and a half feet tall. The man was pale, as pale as Harry hadnow become. HIs face was gentle, his features all seemingly perfectly proportioned. The hair framing his face was midnight black, darker even than Harry’s. It appeared soft as silk and hung straight to his shoulders. Several strands, scattered throughout the man’s hair, sparkled white, standing out harshly against the pure black. The man’s eye’s sparkled gold as they met with Harry’s. The stood out, staring intently at their Master. Harry broke the contact, running his eyes across the man’s form. On his arm in thick black letters the word ‘DEATH’ was visible. 

However before Harry could look any further at the figure before him a loud and shrill ringing rang through the room. Death’s eyes filled with surprise and panic. He pulled on his robes and mask in a flash before rushing back toward the door. Harry hurried after him, worried about the surprising reaction form the being. Death stopped before the closed door. An image appeared before Death and his Master. Two figures became visible on the screen that was floating before them. A girl with ash blonde hair and green eyes, dressed in a trench coat stood next to a boy with spiky white hair and red eyes. Harry thought that there was definitely something strange about the boy’s teeth. 

“I’m sorry Master, but may you allow me to let them in.” Death said awkwardly. The apology was clear in his voice. “It is of high importance that I meet with my students.” 

“Yes, of course. Don't let me stop you.” Harry said nonchalantly. Death gave Harry a look and what he assumed was an appreciative look. The mask was extremely frustrating for Harry. He didn't realise how much communication was based on facial expression until it was taken away. He would really have to do something about that in the future. However Death paused. He shuffled nervously. Harry had to repress a smirk. It was strange to see a powerful being, such as Death, acting like a naughty child. 

“Master…” he said in almost a whisper. “Would you mind…disappearing” he said awkwardly. His head fell forward, his eyes not meeting Harry’s as he did so. 

“How?” Harry questioned. Death seemed to pick up some of his previous exuberance at the words. As he spoke again his voice held a smile. 

“Well it’s simple Master. All you have to do is think about hiding from me.” he said in an optimistic voice. “You have the power of the cloak Master. If you can hide from me then you can hide from everyone. You just need to wish it.” Harry gave a nod to the grinning mask, again sighing at the fact that he could not see the being’s face. It was intently frustrating.  Harry turned his thoughts from the mask, letting his thoughts drift toward invisibility. He willed himself to hide from the being before him, wishing that he become as inconsequential as the air that surrounded him.

“Well done Master” Death purred out before pulling the door open, with what Harry assumed was his mind. Harry stood before the two kids, looking at them curiously. They stepped through the entrance and into the ‘Death Room’. However as the doors were closing Harry decided to take a risk. He forced his way past the pair and scurried through the doors just before they closed. He then let his concentration drop and the invisibility melt away. 

Harry spent the next twenty minutes wondering the corridors, attempting to find his way around the maze that he was in. He knew that Death would find him eventually. The being was far to persistent and from what Harry had seen, protective, of his Master to let him wonder around for too long. Suddenly Harry was met with a hoard of students. They poured through the corridors in massive numbers like a river. Harry was unwillingly pulled along by the current. However the mass of students finally led Harry to an exit. The doors were pushed open and the sun hit his face. He let out a sigh of relief. 

The stress and bizarreness of today were catching up with him far more quickly than he had expected. He just wanted to find somewhere he could think. Harry scurried away from the doors, finding a bench that looked over the courtyard. He sat. His hands clenched as the severity of his situation suddenly hit him. He was dead. He had been dead. He had been ready. He had been seventeen and he had died and that had been okay. He had wanted to see his family; his mum, his dad, his Godfather. He had been ready to spend the rest of eternity with them. Now he wasn't sure that he would ever even see them again. 

Harry couldn't stop the tears that started to stream down his face. HIs breath hitched and a sob racked through his body. His hands came up to cover his eyes, scrubbing the tears and letting the salt sink into his skin. His whole body shook and the sobs continued to increase in volume. All the stress, the pain, the horror, everything; it all poured out of him in a river of tears. The weight of his entire life was suddenly on his shoulders and the only way that Harry could deal with the pain was through the tears, the snot and the screams. 

What Harry hadn't noticed, however was the massive crowd that had now gathered around him. Many students had heard the cries of the boy and had stopped. They had wondered of they could help. However the boy seemed so distraught that no one wanted to approach him. No one had any idea what they could say to him. They could only stare. Minutes ticked by until around thirty students were surrounding the oblivious boy. However the crowd was pushed aside. Many students staggered back at the force of the push. 

“Move” an angry voice rippled through the crowd in a harsh whisper. It broke through the talk of the students as rapidly as the figure himself cut through the crowd. Death stormed through the group, feeling disgust at the students that were crowding his Master. He knelt down before the sobbing boy sitting on the bench. 

“I’m here, it’s okay” he soothed gently. He pulled the young man’s hands into his own. Death’s gloves were gone, revealing a pair of pale hands. Several gasps were heard form the persistent crowd as the hands were made visible. Death ignored them. 

“It’s all going to be okay.” Death whispered. “I’m going to pick you up Harry.” It was the first time Death had used his real name and it forced Harry to look up. Harry’s eyes were red and puffy. His skin was crusted over with dried tears. Snot was trickling down from his nose and his face was even whiter than before. Death let out a sigh and pulled the broken looking boy into his arms. He ran a human hand through Harry’s hair, whispering soothing nothings to him. 

“Get. Out. Of. The. Way.” Death punched through the air in a whisper. Each syllable filled with anger. It was a tone that none of the students had ever heard Death use. They scattered in fear from the headmaster of the school. Death rushed though the courtyard, Harry cradled in his arms as he went. The students were left to only stare after him and the mysterious young man in his arms. 

* * *

It was three weeks later before Harry saw another being other than Death. He’d entered into a swirl of depression, being able to think of nothing other than his tragic life. The only thing that had kept him going had been Death’s presence. The being was amazingly reassuring to be around. He had an air of calm and contentment about him that made Harry feel less burdened by life. Another addition to Harry’s life had made him feel the will to keep on living.

Death had adopted a dog for Harry. The dog was large and scruffy looking, coming to midway up Harry’s thigh. It had the face of German Shepard but it was clearly a mongrel. Its fur was a mixture of grey and varying shades of brown that littered its body in patchy fur. Harry had named the sorry looking dog Wilson. Harry had spent the last week getting Wilson to trust him. The dog had obviously had a tough life, abused and neglected. Harry had really connected with the mutt. He had seen himself in the scared dog. It also gave him a sense of self and purpose. Wilson needed him and he needed Wilson. 

So three weeks after Harry’s life changing forever he was ready to engage with this new world. He needed to know what kind of world he would be living in. That is why he decided that he needed to become a student at the school that he was staying at. He wanted to learn about the society that he was now in. Death had informed him that Harry and Death himself was the one true connection that Harry would ever have. Death was able to take on the form of a weapon if his Master demanded it. If any battle was to arise then the pair had perfectly compatible soul wavelength. However due to Harry’s inexperience the power of Death would overwhelm Harry. He would not be able to fight effectively. He needed training. Training that he could get within the academy. Harry could be compatible with other weapons, his soul wavelength was versatile and comparable with nearly all other weapons. 

That is how Harry found himself sitting at the back of classroom, Wilson at his feet, as he watched the students file in. He went unnoticed by all of those in the classroom as he simply let his hands run through Wilson’s fur; soothing both the mutt and himself. He let a small smile grace his lips as Wilson’s head rested on Harry’s knee. A man entered the room and the muttering from the students ceased. Instead their attention focused solely on the man. He was a very strange looking man. Scars littered his body and a giant screw was penetrating his head. Harry was unsure as to whether it was fake or real. The man’s clothing was similarly covered in stitches. Harry knew who this was. The man was Dr Franken Stein. Death had warned Harry about him. He was a good teacher but was slightly unstable and may preform a dissection or two in his class. Stein sat down and readied himself for the lesson. 

“Register, register” he mumbled to himself, his hands spreading out across the mess of paper work attempting to find the sheet that he needed. “Ah, here we go.” Stein said as he picked up a piece of paper he was searching for. He lazily read out the list of names that were written on the page. Harry heard a peculiar list of names: Soul Eater, Black Star, Crona and Death the Kid. He was so engrossed in his thoughts about the irregularity of the names that he was shocked to hear his own name. Due to his shock he therefore answered without thinking. 

“Yes Frank” he replied without thinking. He had heard Death refer to the man as such for the past three weeks and so he thought nothing of his words until muffled laughter filled the room. Some students were staring at him with wide eyes, while others attempt to muffle their laughter by using their hands as a shield. Franken just raised a brow. 

“As much as I may appreciate the fact that you know my name I do expect a level of respect in this classroom” Stein grinned out. However there was a harsh edge to his tone. Harry knew that if he was to disrespect the man’s orders that it would not end well. “Dr Stein or Sir are my preferred titles.” Harry gave a shy nod. 

“Apologies Sir, it won’t happen again.” Harry mumbled out. Harry’s face flushed a light shade pink and he attempted to avoid the gaze of the rest of the room. The students were now staring at him. He guessed that he had lost his anonymity. It seemed that the students would now be desperate to know who he was. He let hishand run through Wilson’s fur, the dog hidden under the desk, again soothing his frayed nerves. He really hoped that this did not turn out to be like Hogwarts again. 

The lesson passed at a sedate pass after that. Harry understood the majority of what was going on, having spent a lot of time with Death, able to hear his in detail explanation of the lessons that he was now being taught. Death was a great teacher. Harry, therefore simply, sat and took notes, watching the proceedings with an indifferent eye and occasionally feeding Wilson a treat form his pocket.

The lesson ended and Harry watched and waited for the rest of the student population to leave the room before he stood. A quick glance toward his timetable and he made his way toward his next class. The corridors were mostly empty and Harry knew that he’d be late for the class, but he didn't really care. As long as he had Wilson with him and he avoided any of the curious gazes from the other students. Harry finally found his classroom and entered to every set of eyes on him. He noticed several people from his previous class; a girl he thought was called Maka, death the kid, Soul and a few others. Harry ignored the stares and pulled Wilson to stand with the rest of the students. The classroom was empty of furniture, other than a few large chests. The teacher continued to speak as Harry joined the others. 

“Now Meisters and Weapons, today we shall be doing some general versatility training.” The man before them said. He had long blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. Harry recognised him from Death’s descriptions as Mifune. “You and your partner will face many different challenges together. Your weapon may change and develop as much as you do. You need to be ready to deal with any of these changes. That means that you’ll all be training with a weapon that is not yours today.” The man said with a smile. There was a mumble of voices, many of which were filled with derision as both Meisters and Weapons expressed their reluctance to engage in the activity. 

As people began to pair up with apprehension Harry merely stood with Wilson, watching the scene. Soon there were only two people not paired up. Himself and a pink haired kid that seemed to only be standing nervously near the centre of the room. Harry made his way over to the kid, Wilson following closely at his heels.

“Hey” Harry said with a small smile. The kid turned to face him, looking even more nervous than before. “You wanna be together?” Harry questioned. The words sounding childish to his own ears. The kid looked shocked and scared before managing to stumble out an answer.

“Umm…no…I-I-I can’t work with you. I don’t…I can’t use any other weapon” the kid bumbled. They were, however, interrupted by another voice before they could continue.

“That’s right. Crona only needs me. No one else but me” a possessive voice purred out. A being protruded from the kid’s back. The head of a black creature with white eyes appeared above the pink haired kid’s shoulders as it spoke. Harry stared at it for a few seconds. Watching the way it moved. It reminded him of a dementor. “He doesn't need a puny human like you” the creature growled out. It then started to punch the kid on the head, hard by the looks of it. The kid then began to whine, complaining of the pain. That was when Harry’s Gryffindor instincts kicked in. 

“Stop it.” Harry cried out loudly, causing several heads to turn at the noise. The creature only laughed and continued its abuse. “I said, stop it!” Harry growled out. His voice was deep and vicious. “You should not hurt people for no reason. Especially when that person is your friend.” Harry hissed. Unbeknownst to Harry he was letting his magic spark to the surface of his skin and skitter across the room, like rain from a cloud. Harry, as the Master of Death, had the power over any of those in Death’s service. By attending the academy these students were submitting to Lord Death and by extension Harry. Therefore as the creature on the kid’s shoulder felt the power radiating from Harry it flinched. It stopped punching the pink haired teenager and vanished back to where he had come from. 

“Crona was it?” Harry questioned. The kid nodded in return. “Well, now that that’s settled would you like to work together? I don't need a weapon either. I can fight without one.” Harry said with a small smile. “Shall we just fight together instead; seeing as neither of us need another weapon.” Crona gave a mumbled conformation and Harry gave a smile. He continued the lesson with Crona ignoring the fact that every set of eyes was looking at him at some stage throughout those two hours. 


	2. Chapter 2

Harry invited Crona to lunch, asking the shy kid in hushed tones. Crona looked at him curiously, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

“Wha…What do you mean?” Crona asked. Crona’s eyes scurried away form Harry’s face.

“Well, I was wondering if you want to get some food together?” Harry said with a smile. “I mean you don't have to, but I’m new here and so I don't really know anyone…and well…” Harry babbled. However before Harry could embarrass himself any further Crona responded to Harry. 

“Ummm, okay” the nervous kid said with a strange smile. It looked as though they were slightly in pain. Harry gave a wide grin back to Crona in excitement. It was nice to have a friend that he could actually talk to. Wilson was fantastic company, but he couldn't talk. You couldn't hold a conversation with him. Death was also good company but he viewed Harry as his Master and so the relationship was a challenging one. It would be nice to have a friend that views him only as a new student. Even if that friend was rather strange. Harry found himself reminded of Luna and a pang pierced his chest. He shook it off and turned back to Crona. 

“Great. Will you show me to the cafeteria then?” Harry smiled. Crona gave an awkward nod. Harry followed them, side by side as they walked down the corridors. Wilson remained at Harry’s heels, snuffling at Harry’s hand and letting out happy yips. As they reached the cafeteria Harry kept up a heathy chatter. They collected their trays, each selecting different foods. They sat down at a table, placing their trays down gently. Harry quickly ran to get some food for Wilson, putting the bowl down in front of the dog and smiling as the dog wolfed the food down at a rapid rate. They only had several minutes of peace before they were interrupted by a large group of people.

“Hey” a boy almost shouted. Harry recognised him from his meeting with Death. He had white hair, red eyes and shark like teeth. He let his tray drop to the table with a crash, some of the food on his plate spilling onto the table. The girl that he had been with sat next to him. A boy that Harry had seen in his lessons sat down next to Harry himself, managing to avoid Wilson’s rapid eating. The boy had a shock of turquoise hair and an angry face. Next to the boy a nervous looking girl sat down nervously. She was plain looking, but also friendly. She gave a soft smile to both Crona and Harry. Harry smiled back before looking around the table at the rest of the members in question. He wanted to know who they were and what they were doing here.

“I’m Harry” he said by way of introduction. It was an invitation for the rest of the members of the group to introduce themselves. The dirty blonde haired girl flushed slightly, embraced at not having said a thing to the boy before her. She stuttered out an introduction. 

“Maka Albarn” she said embarrassedly. “and this is Soul Eate.” she said pointing to the white haired boy to her left. 

“I’m BlackStar. But I’m sure you've already heard of me. I‘m the biggest and the baddest of them allso you must have heard of me.” Harry raised a brow. However before he could comment the blue haired boy was interrupted.

“I’m Tsubaki Nakatsukasa” the girl said. Her voice was soft and Harry found himself warming to her almost immediately. She seemed to be a loving, open person and Harry liked her. 

“A pleasure to meet you all.” Harry said with a smile. “So…you know Crona?” he asked. Make gave a nod and responded with a smile. From then on the meal seemed to go quite well. Harry seemed to get along well with all of the members of the table, although he found BlackStar difficult to cope with. The boy remained Harry of Draco Malfoy. He was loud and arrogant. However, overall the boy was inherently self doubting. All of his heir of superiority was really a cover up for his own insecurities. It seemed that BlackStar was the same as Draco Malfoy in that respect as well. 

The group of students all made their way to their next lesson, a tentative friendship having been formed. The next lesson, however, was one that Harry could not participate in. Death had told him that he need not even turn up to the lesson. However, Harry had decided that he wanted to. He wanted to see how it was that the weapons and the meisters interacted with each other. He wanted to see if he could gain any insight as to how he should interact with Death. 

Harry spent several minutes watching the pairs, and in one case, trio, interact with each other. All the relationships seemed unique to the individual. They all interacted in totally different ways. Soul and Maka seemed to argue a lot, however when it came to fighting their movements, they were perfect. They flowed as one being. Crona was also different. Crona seemed to change when they interacted with their weapon. The shy and awkward kid, changed. They became confident, strong and dangerous. It awed Harry to see such an alteration. Harry could do nothing but stare. 

However Harry’s attention was drawn away from the changed person and toward the trio as the ripple of a bullet filled the air. It hit the target, perfectly in the centre. Harry watched as the boy that Death had told him was his son, repeated the action, only to hit the target spot on again. The two identical guns were held perfectly by the young man, who twisted and spun around with grace and elegance. Each move seemed premeditated; planned to perfection. 

As Harry’s eyes flickered to the next pair of students training, a sudden pain rippled through him. An intense, heart clenching pain that filled his entire being. It was sadness. A sadness that he had never felt before. One so strong that it knocked the very breath out of his lungs. He clutched at his stomach, falling to the floor. His knees hit the floor painfully, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the mental torment that Harry was feeling. He curled into the foetal position as he gasped, attempting to bring air into his empty lungs.

The pain only grew as Harry attempted to pull the oxygen that he desperately needed, into his body. Tears were streaming down his face without his consent. He gasped like a fish, small sips of air, managing to quench some of the thirst in his lungs. Finally after several seconds, that felt more like a lifetime to Harry, he felt the glorious sensation of air rushing into his lungs. However they were soon emptied again as a scream ripped from Harry’s throat. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to block out the pain that ripped through his body. The suffering of a thousand people seemed to be rushing through his body. Gasping in another breath, a scream was again torn from him.

Time seemed to loose any meaning as all Harry could focus on was not suffocating. Each breath that he took was swiftly followed by a pained moan, scream or sob. It was all Harry could do not to pass out. He therefore didn't notice Wilson’s panicked barks and the worried voices that filled the room. However Harry did notice as a pair of arms pulled them to their chest. However he was able to do nothing other than let out another scream. 

* * *

Spirt Albarn had been in a meeting with Lord Death. If it could be called a meeting, that is. It had started off as a discussion of Spirit’s role in the academy and whether or not he should continue his teaching. It had then descended into Spirit’s wails as he complained about how unfair his life was. Death had sat, listening to the DeathScythe, bored, disinterest clear on his face. Of course Spirit couldn't tell that. He only saw the smile that the mask portrayed to the world.    

However Spirit had noticed when Death had suddenly tensed and the air had become thick with the stench of decay. The room had become frozen, Spirit able to see his breath, swirling in a fog of smoke above him. Lord Death gasped and in the silence the sound echoed through the Death Room, bouncing off the walls. Spirt couldn't move. His feet fell as though they were glued to the spot. 

As soon as the change had come, it was gone again. The temperature became normal, the smell on the breeze only that of the sand that lined the ground. However Death’s form was still tensed. He stood from his throne, his posture intense and business like. The red haired man’s eyes hardened. Ready for a battle that he assumed was imminent. However Spirit was not expecting the words that came from Lord Death’s mouth. 

“Go to Sid’s classroom.” Death barked out, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Get the boy there. He’ll be sitting at the side of the room, probably in pain” Spirit raised a brow at that. He was about to mutter out a question, to ask what the hell the man meant. However he couldn't even stutter out a single syllable. “Go NOW!” Lord Death shouted. “I don't have time for any of this shit!” With that Spirit ran from the room, fearful of the wrath that he had seen in Lord Death’s eyes. 

He skidded down the corridor, his feet stuttering, stumbling over one another as they ran faster than his mind could keep up with him. His breath came quickly as he pushed the door open violently. The scene that met him was not one that he had been expecting, however he didn't let his thoughts dwell on it. Instead he rushed for the boy on the floor. He gently but rapidly pulled the young man into his arms.

“Papa” Spirit faltered momentarily as he heard his daughter’s voice call after him. “Papa what’s going on?” she questioned. However Spirit didn't turn, didn't look to his daughter as he would have done not ten minutes ago. No, Lord Death needed him. He had been trusted with a great responsibility. Lord Death and the boy in his arms were more important than his daughter at this current moment. So Spirit did something that he never thought that he would do, he left. He left without a single word to his little girl. Instead he rushed from the room, making his way back to Lord Death.

As he re-entered the Death Room, Lord Death rushed to greet him. He pulled the boy from his arms and Spirt could only watch as Lord Death cradled the young man to his chest, whispering soothing words to him. Spirit stood awkwardly as Lord Death retreated to his throne, pulling the young man onto his lap as he sat.

“It’s okay Harry. It’s all okay.” Death soothed gently, but the boy was unresponsive. He seemed to only be engulfed with pain. Whimpers and screams still filling the air. Spirit wasn't sure what could be done. He was therefore not expecting what happened next. 

Death took an ungloved hand to his face and reached for the mask that covered his face. He pulled the white skull from his face. Spirit held back a gasp at a sight that no DeathScythe could claim to have ever seen. Spirit was, however, unable to see his Lord’s face, but the same could not be said for the boy before him. Lord Death’s hood was pulled so far forward that the shadow cast utterly obscured the skin beneath. Spirit could only watch as the human looking hands of Lord Death pulled the face of the boy toward his. 

“Harry” he hissed out mournfully, pulling the young man closer. Spirit saw a flash of green in the wet eyes as they connected with those that were hidden under the hood.

“That’s it Master, that’s it. It’s all going to be alright Master.” Spirit choked the first time he heard the word, sure that he must be mistaken. However the second time a gasp issued from his lips. One that broke through the near silence of the room. It broke though Lord Death’s whispered speech. His mask was back in an instant. Harry was placed on the chair and a hand was around Spirit’s neck, faster than he could blink.

“Not a word” Lord Death growled out with anger, the threat clear in his voice. “Not a word about this to anyone” he growled out. “If I hear a whisper of anything, I will have your head.” Death spat. Spirit’s body trembled as he felt the power that radiated from Lord Death.

“Y-Y-Yes…” Spirit managed to stutter out. Death dropped him. Spirit fell to the floor, choking as he attempted to pull air back into his lungs. 

“Go” Lord Death growled out. With that Spirit pushed himself up and stumbled from the room. He ran from down the corridor and out of the academy, only stopping as he returned to his home. He had never seen Lord Death act in such a way; never seen the man so defensive and so aggressive. It was terrifying. As he collapsed to his bed, he vowed never to anger Lord Death in such a way again. He also vowed to find out who the hell the kid was and why Lord Death had been calling him Master. 

* * *

Harry was soon embraced in the soft arms of Death the mask removed yet again. Harry was soothed, a gentle hand running through his hair and gentle whispers in his ears. Death removed his cloak and Harry allowed himself to listen to the soft heartbeat of the being below him. Minutes passed and Harry raised his head to look the man in the face. The twinkling Gold eyes were filled with regret and sorrow. Harry raised a hand to the face, letting his fingers rub gently along the soft skin. He didn't know why but he just knew that the being before him needed reassurance. He needed comfort. Comfort that Harry could give.

“I’m so sorry Master, so sorry” he said, resting his head on Harry’s. Their eyes even closer now. “So sorry” he whispered. Harry brought up the other hand, placing it on the other side of Death’s face. Death was like a child needing comfort. Harry  would give that where he could. He just had to help people when they were in need. Especially when that person was one that he was the Master of.

“What happened Death?” Harry questioned. His tone was gentle. He held no accusation and no hostility, only the desire for an explanation.

“Master…I…” Harry waited. The being needed to compose himself. His interruption at this point wouldn't help. He simply brought a hand to Death’s head and let his fingers twist through his hair. Death took a breath. He was glad of the reassurance that Harry’s hand provided. 

“A friend died today Master.” Harry’s hand froze, before quickly resuming its moments again. “I had not seen him for many years, but his death was…unexpected.” Death mumbled. Sorrow in his tone. “I slipped. I let my emotions control me just for a second.” Death sighed. “I slipped Master and…well…you felt it too Master. You felt the sorrow for that moment. All the sorrow that everyone else felt for their loved one. You felt the pain of every death. Every grief stricken parent, child, friend. You felt all of them Master.” Death said solemnly.

Harry decided that he didn't like the look in the being’s face. His arms wrapped around the man’s waist, pulling Death’s head into his shoulder. 

“It’s okay. I’m okay” Harry soothed. “You have a right to grieve Death. You have a right to be sad. Everyone does.” Death looked up at Harry wide eyed. He didn't know if he had ever been comforted, or ever had his feelings validated. He was Lord Death. People assumed that he was untouchable. That he didn't need anyone or anything. Death gave his Master a small smile. “Just warn me next time” Harry said with a giggle and lopsided grin. 

“Thank you Master.” Harry’s grin widened. He was glad that Death was feeling better. He didn't know what had happened to the man in the past but he knew that as his Master it was his responsibility to make his future feel better.

“Now I really need to take a nap.” Harry said, his eyes already flickering shut. Before Death knew it the young man was already asleep. His breathing soft, puffs of breath, gently caressing Death’s skin. Death ran a hand through his hair. 

* * *

Harry had not left Death’s side in the past two days. He had skipped out on lessons and sat in on meetings, invisible of course, but he had not left him. As the morning of the third day loomed Death attempted to convince his young Master that he should go to lessons for the day. He wanted his Master to learn and to keep moving forward rather than worrying over him like a mother.

“Master…” he whined again. 

“No Death, I want to be sure that…” he was cut off. 

“Please Master. I’m fine. I promise” Death’s eyes were wide and begging. Harry thought that in a situation such as this he may be glad for the mask. At least he would have avoided Death’s puppy dog face. He seemed unable to resist it. “Don’t you wish to see your friends Master? I’m sure Crona is wondering where you are.” Death said with a small smile. Harry scowled. The man was most definitely manipulating him and they both knew it. Sadly it was working. Harry gave a nod.

“Fine. I’ll go. Although I’ll come to check on you after lunch” Death looked as though he was about to protest. Harry stopped him. “No, no arguments. I have a free period after lunch and i’ll come and see you then.” Harry said firmly. 

“Yes Master” Death said, a roll of his eyes as he agreed with the young man before him. Although in all honesty he appreciated the caring nature of the raven haired man. Death knew it had been less than a month but he wasn't sure that he would be able to go back to life without his Master. With a smile, a wave and a muttered promise for a later meeting, Harry left for his first lesson of the day.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry was lying on his bed, drifting in and out of sleep. His eyes were shut and a hand lazily ran through Wilson’s fur, the dog lying on his chest. He was, however, broken out of the pleasant daze as he heard the door crash open. His head shot up, causing a whine to escape from Wilson’s mouth as the dog was dislodged from his comfortable position. Harry was met with a sight that he had not been hoping to see today. Before him stood Death the Kid. Harry recognised the familiar gold eyes that looked at him in shock. 

“What the hell are you doing here!” Kid shouted, in what sounded nothing like a question and everything like a demand. Harry sighed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He was not ready to have to face the son of Death. He wasn't even sure what their relationship would be. He was the son of a man that he was Master of. Harry was also currently lying on the boy’s father’s bed. Nothing had happen of course. Harry had woken from his own room and gone to find the man, only to discover he was not there. This led to him lying on the bed, waiting for the man to return. Harry let out a sigh of exasperation. He was sure that there was no rule book for this kind of thing. Harry stretched his arms above his head with a sigh, ignoring the question for now. 

Harry focused his intent, his eyes hardening as he did. Death had taught him how to contact him this way only a few days ago. Harry was now not only able to hide from Death but also find him whenever he needed to. Harry let his thoughts pass to Death. The feelings of need and worry as well as images of the man’s angry son filled his head. He bombarded Death with the feeling of urgency, before he let his eyes focus back on the boy before him. 

“Answer me!” Kid shouted again. Although Harry was not fazed. Compared to the real thing this glare was nothing. Harry had seen the real Death. His real anger, sorrow, regret and disgust. Kid was nothing compared to the force of nature that his father was. 

“I’m here” Harry replied calmly. “because your father asked me to be here.” Harry’s voice was hard. Although it was quite, deadly even. He did not take well to being shouted at. Kid seemed to shudder as he met the sparkling green eyes that bore into him. He was filled with fear that he didn't understand. Seeing those piercing green sparkles caused him to freeze. To feel things that he had never felt before. He had never felt as though he could be smiled from the earth with a blink of the shimmering eyes. He felt like that now.

“Now” Harry said sternly. “I want you to sit down and wait down for your father to join us.” Harry nearly growled. Kid could do little more than nod. He sat in the indicated seat. His eyes fuzzy, his actions not fully his own. He blinked repeatedly as he attempted to bring his focus back. However each time that he looked at the young man before him the green eyes led him back into the spiral of confusion. 

Harry kept his focus on the fact that he wanted submission from the kid before him. He knew that this sort of magic was taxing. It would take a lot of energy for him to keep his focus on controlling anyone, yet alone the son of one of the most powerful beings in the universe. Thankfully Harry’s concentration was only needed for a minute as the door to the room was opened to revel the man himself, Death, standing in the doorway. He was stiff, his head bowed. It was obvious that he was also feeling the side effects of Harry’s powers. 

“Death” Harry greeted, letting the intention on submission. Harry smiled as Death’s posture relaxed and his head raised. However the moment was broken as Kid seemed to also be broken from the daze. He shot up from the seat his eyes filled with anger. 

“What the fuck was that?” Kid yelled, his outrage back in full swing. He marched toward Harry, his breath coming rapidly as he spoke. Harry could feel the anger coming off him in waves. Harry only raised a brow and sighed in frustration.

“So, are you going to tell him?” Harry questioned, not even looking at the being that still stood in the doorway. “Or shall I?” 

“I…I will” Death mumbled out. Harry gave a nod, this time looking at the being. The sympathy was clear in his eyes. He gave a small smile of encouragement to the being. 

“What the FUCK is going on!” Kid yelled louder than before. Death gave a glare and pulled the mask on his face. That caused Kid to freeze. His father almost never took of his mask. He could count the number of times that he had seen his father’s face on one hand. He looked at the man in awe, drinking in each line of his father’s face.   

“Kid. I need you to sit down and I need you to talk to you.” Kid could only nod, in a daze. His mouth was open as he looked at the perfectly symmetrical face. His eyes glittered equally as gold. His hair was the perfect length hanging down to just skim his shoulders on either side. The white strands that ran through his hair were positioned perfectly on either side. His middle parting accentuated this perfection. His eyebrows were perfectly sculpted and his lips the perfect bow. Kid only stared as he plopped down onto the chair. 

“This is Harry, Kid. He’s my Master” Kid was snapped from his daze of perfection at that. He choked on air. 

“W-w-what?” he breathed heavily. His eyes were wide, his shock clear on his face. “What are you talking about?” Kid groaned. His mind was now even more of a mess. He didn't understand. “You can’t have a master; you’re…your’e Death.” Kid whispered. His eyes flickered to Harry in slight fear and slight annoyance. Who was this boy that appeared only a few years older than he was? 

“He is worthy Kid.” Death said with a small smile. “He completed tasks that I had set out centuries ago, before I even imagined your existence. He is the first and only one to succeed. He is not blinded by greed for power or fame. He is not blinded by riches and he holds true to what he believes in. He is strong, powerful and beautiful. He isperfect for me Kid. He can be perfect for us if you let him.” Death whispered out. 

Harry could only listen in wonder as the man spoke. He had not known that Death valued him so much. He had always seen himself as a burden, as someone that had forced himself into Death’s life. He had tried to be there for Death and tried to help him in any way that he could. He hadn't realised that Death actually valued him. It was amazing to hear such words spoken to him. He hadn't known anyone that had ever spoken such kind words. 

Kid was still utterly dazed as he heard his father spoke. The words coming from the perfectly symmetrical lips was something that he had not expected. They were baffling, confusing, mystifying. He didn't know how to cope. He looked to his father, looked to Harry and then buried his head in his hands. Tears began to drip down his face as he tried to find any way of coping with what had just been revealed. 

Death stood there awkwardly looking at his distraught son. He didn't know what to do. He had not seen Kid act this like this since he was a small child. Now he was sure that a lolly and a pat on the head would not stop the tears this time. 

“Kid…I…” Death trailed awkwardly attempting to find some sort of inspiration as he spoke. But no words came to him. He did not know how to comfort his son. Thankfully his Master did. Harry stood from the bed, gently shushing Wilson as the dog let out a wine at the movement. 

“It’s okay Kid. It’s all going to be okay” Harry soothed as he made his way toward the sofa that Kid was on.

“No! No it’s not!” Kid cried out in an attempt at anger. However it came out as little more than a sob. Harry ignored him. He sat down by the boy. He looked younger now than Harry had seen him in lessons. He was still a little boy with too much responsibility and fame. Harry knew how that felt. 

“I promise you” Harry whispered as he pulled Kid into his arms. He ran a hand along the back of the little boy. “You’re okay” Harry soothed. The boy was stiff in his arms. However Harry persisted. He kept his movements slow and gentle, running the hand up and down soothingly. Finally after more than a minute the boy seemed to relax. He collapsed onto Harry’s shoulder and let the sobs rack his body. The fear and responsibility that he had shielded himself with him had finally dropped to the floor and smashed. The pieces were now scattered, unfixable, all over the floor. All that was left was the naked Kid, free from his shields. Revealed to the world. He sobbed. 

* * *

Harry woke to the sound of soft breathing, the gentle in and out of three sets of lungs. Wilson lay at the end of the bed, while Kid was to Harry’s right. Harry’s arm was on his shoulder, Kid still clasping at Harry’s hand as a life line. Death had Harry in his arms. Harry had his head rested on the man’s chest, able to hear the beats of his heart. Harry gave a smile. He wondered if this was what it felt like to have a family.

Harry spent several minutes luxuriating in the warmth of the two shinigami and the dog that surrounded him. However soon he was in desperate need of the toilet. He gently pushed himself up, ensuring not to wake the three sleeping beings on the bed. After relieving himself he made his way toward the kitchen, intent on making breakfast. 

Kid woke half an hour later to the smell of bacon tickling his nose. As he sat up he noticed that his father lay beside him, his mask still off and his face at peace. Kid spent several seconds just looking at the perfection that was his father’s face. It was perfect symmetry, even when he was asleep. As though Death could feel the eyes on him his own matching gold flickered open. As he saw Kid he let a smile grace his face. Kid’s eyes widened. He had never seen his father smile at him before. It was off putting. 

“It seemed that Harry has made us breakfast” Death said, another smile. Kid was again left breathless. His father was not one for genuine emotion. He may give off a heavy facade to the student s at the academy, but sincerity was a rarity for the man. Kid found himself thrown by the freely shown affection for Harry, a man that, according to their discussion last night, he had known for less than a month. It was a ridiculous notion. Kid didn't know how to deal with it. Death’s chest rumbled in a groan as he stood up from the bed, his arms stretching above his head. 

“Come on Kid. It’s not good to keep Harry waiting.” Death said as he made his way to the door. Kid watched him go, the man in a pair of black pyjamas. He felt as though he were in a dream. However it was a dream that he did not want to wake up from. In his own pyjamas, perfectly symmetrical, Kid stood up and followed after his father. He was curious to what it was that Harry had cooked. 

Harry smiled as the two people walked into the room. Wilson was already at his feet whining in a bid for food. 

“Good morning” Harry said brightly, attempting to create an atmosphere of calm. To maintain the tentative relationship that he had struck up with the young man last night. Kid gave a wide eyed look before giving a tiny smile back to the man before him. Kid let his eyes roam the boy. He was a mess. His hair stuck up in odd directions, the shoulder of his pyjama top hanging off one shoulder. His head was tilted as he smiled and even the smile itself was wonky, one of his teeth being slightly wonky, only emphasising that fact.

However Kid didn't seem to mind. For the first time that he could remember he didn't find a deep desire to rush over and fix the man. He didn't want for the man’s hair to be perfectly aligned, didn't want for the smile to be straightened and the shirt in order. In fact the man was…perfect just the way he was. Kid had to hold back a gasp at the realisation. This man that was shambolic with no regard for the glory of symmetry was still perfect. 

“If you two sit down then I’ll plate you up some breakfast.” Harry said with a bright smile to the two men that still remained standing awkwardly in the kitchen. The pair continued to stare, looking awkwardly for several seconds.

“Come on” Harry smiled, his eyes revealing the strain that he felt. This was an extremely difficult situation. “It’s almost ready.” Death and his son finally sat down, the tension heavy in the room.

Harry turned around, resuming his cooking. The eggs a perfect consistency as he began to set them on the plate. Harry spent the next few minutes perfecting the look of the dishes before placing them before the two people seated at the table. Death gave a small smile of thanks, however Kid could do nothing but stare at the plate in front of him. 

Before Kid was an almost symmetrical dish. In the centre, an egg, that was perfectly circular, Kid guessed that Harry must have used a mould to get the shape. Two pieces of bacon circled the egg. There was a slight discrepancy in size, but that was only to be expected. Two roasted tomatoes, one above the egg and one below were rotated as to have a perfect line running down their centre. A line of baked beans stretched from top to bottom of either side of the plate. 

Kid had never had anyone make a meal for him like this. One that he could actually eat without having to spend fifteen minutes setting the food in order. This meant that by the time that he ate it, it was always cold. Even the food that he made himself had not been to this level of symmetry and still in a state where it was edible. 

“T-thank you” Kid managed to mutter out after a solid minute of staring at the food on his plate.

“It’s no problem Kid. Enjoy your meal” Harry grinned, sitting down in front of his own plate. He felt that he had made progress with the boy. The fact that he had put in the effort to make the boy a breakfast that was up to his standards would have definitely earned him browny points. Harry didn't even feel bad that he had used magic to help him in a little bit. 

* * *

Harry sat in his first lesson of the week. It was a remedial class, one that Harry had decided that he should take. Normally these classes were reserved for those that were members of the EAT classes that had failed to complete their missions. However, Harry had not been given any missions, therefore meaning that he was not eligible to the classes. So when Harry had heard about the classes he had asked Death for permission to attend. He could have ordered the being, but he did not like to. Death had, of course, acquiesced to Harry’s request.

That was how Harry found himself sitting at the back of the room, Wilson keeping his head in his Master’s lap, letting Harry run his fingers gently through the messy fur. Harry’s notes were scattered across the table as he watched the rest of the students file into the room. Harry smiled a small smile as Death entered the room, the man running the sessions for the day. Death gave Harry the smallest nod as the being caught his eye. It was imperceptible to the others in the room but Harry had seen it. 

Behind Death, Franken Stein walked in, the creepy grin placed firmly on his face. Harry was sure that it was little more than a scare tactic. However he was also sure that it worked well for any unruly students. The insanity that twinkled in his eyes was indeed threatening. The rest of the students were now present, Stein being the last person to enter the room. 

“Good morning students” Death said with a wide smile, his friendly atmosphere countered harshly by the insane looking man that stood next to him, giant screw in his head. Harry wondered if there was any magic involved in its insertion. He would have to ask Death later. 

The lesson passed at a quick rate, the topics interesting and new for Harry. However it seemed that the material was old for many of the students in the room. One student in particular, by the name of Hero, did nothing more than complain and moan at each task he was set for the entirety of the two hour class. Then during the tasks the boy merely fiddled with his blonde hair and twisted one of his numerous piercings that lined his ears. Harry wished that he could punch the boy for disrespecting Death in such a way. It was insulting that he failed to listen to the words of wisdom that the being bestowed on them. 

However Harry managed to restrain himself. Instead working at the tasks at hand. He looked down at the worksheet and let his hand flow over the page in a neat and precise scrawl as he looked in interest to the questions on soul wavelength. Harry knew that there was never a chance of any weapon rejecting him, his power as Death’s Meister allowing him to yield any weapon he desired. However it was still interesting to learn about the process of it and the intricacies of Soul compatibility.

Wilson let out a small growl and Harry looked up from the sheet to see Stein standing in front of him. He gave the man a look of curiosity, tilting his head as he wondered what he wanted. 

“Hello there” the man said, turning the screw in his head, concentration clear in his eyes. “Harry…yes?” he questioned. Harry gave a nod, noticing from behind Stein that Death’s eyes were pinned on him.

“Well” the doctor said in a sing-song voice, drawing out the ‘l’ at the end of the words. He suddenly cut himself of and in a quick fire tone he rapidly shot the words “What are you doing here then?” at Harry.

Harry looked at the man with suspicion in his eyes. He didn't know what Stein wanted and he didn't want to let any information slip that Death may think of as confidential. However the man himself was very quickly standing behind Stein, his overly large hand on the man’s shoulders. 

“No need for such interrogation Frank” Death said in a joking tone. However Harry was sure that Stein could hear the threat under it, just as Harry could hear it himself. “Harry here was allowed in the remedial classes, simply because he asked.” Death smiled. Well at least Harry assumed that he did; under his mask it was difficult to tell. 

“Ah I…see” Stein said, obviously not seeing at all. That was clear in his tone. However he did not press the matter. He simply turned the screw in his head several times before wondering off to interrogate another student. Death’s eyes followed Stein as he made his way toward Hero. Once the man was fully focused on the other student, Death leaned forward, his head close to Harry’s as he spoke. 

“Do not worry about him Master. He is all bark and no bite” Death let his hand gently run over Harry’s, his fingers temporarily loosing their gloved appearance. “Just ignore him. I’m sure that smiling at him will be more off-putting than anything else” Death said with his own smile, the corners of the mask seeming to turn up as if portraying the true smile that hid underneath.

Harry gave a nod and a smile in return to the advice, careful to keep his movements discreet. He needed to look as though he were little more than a pupil taking advice; in awe of the man that stood before him. Harry was sure he was pulling it off well. He had always been a good actor after all. 

* * *

Harry ran forward, his legs pumping, Wilson hot on his heels. He made his way toward the two students that stood, ready to fight. Dr Stein stood by them, ready to umpire the fight. Harry was sure he would be unneeded. He was not about to let a fight break about between the pair. He had been in a class with the pair when they had decided that a fight would be the only way to establish which one of them were the stronger. BlackStar’s facade of strength and Kid’s need to prove himself did not make a good combination.

Harry watched as BlackStar lunged for Kid, ready to attack. He pushed Death’s son back, before knocking him to the ground with a punch to the stomach. However before he could get further Harry stood between them, facing Kid as the boy prepared for the counter attack. 

“Stop Kid, no!” Kid froze, his eyes going wide as he saw Harry before him. He could do little more than stare at the sparkling green eyes and the desperate tone. However before Kid could respond to him another voice broke through the silence that had formed between them.

“Hey!” BlackStar shouted out angrily. “Don’t try and stop MY fight” he growled. As he said this he shoved Harry to the side, not paying attention as Harry’s head came down on the stone with an audible crack. Instead the blue haired boy lunged for Kid, intent on finishing his fight. 

Harry’s vision began to swim, his head becoming fuzzy as he tried to sit up from the floor. He reached up a hand to his head, letting out a wince as he touched his forehead. He brought his hand back down to see blood trickling through his fingers. He distantly heard the sound of Kid and BlackStar fighting as he attempted to clear his vision. He pushed himself up, his arms shaking as they attempted to take his small weight. They couldn’t. He let out a whimper as his arms gave way, his elbows jolting against the cold stone beneath him. He heard Wilson whine equally as pitifully as his vision began to swim.

The next thing Harry knew a pair if arms were around him, pulling him up. The gently helped him to his feet, keeping him steady. One arm clutched around his waist, the other holding Harry’s hand tightly, helping to keep him balanced. 

“Harry. Harry are you okay?” Kid, Harry’s fuzzy brain registered. He attempted to shake his head, no he was not okay. However, as he did so a wave of pain rippled though him. He let out another whimper and his knees buckled under the weight of his head. Kid’s hands were there, his arms quickly pulling Harry up, keeping him standing. 

“Come on Harry. We’re going to move very slowly toward that bench. I know that you can do that for me.” Kid’s voice was gentle, his tone caring as he helped to guide the young man in his arms toward the bench. Each step felt like a stab in Harry’s brain, the pain rising more and more with each jolt. Harry was gently set down, although his head was filled further with pain as he sat. His vision was beginning to blacken at the edges. His eyes began to flicker shut as the pain began to engulf him. 

“Harry, Harry please stay with me.” Kid’s voice broke through the fog. Harry’s eyes flickered open, before flickering shut again. The blackness swam before his closed lids. Harry could hear voices, murmurs that seemed wordless and meaningless to Harry’s ears.

“Master” a deep voice growled out in little more than a whisper. The owner of the voice was close enough to his ear that Harry could hear the breath on his ear lobe. The feeling and the voice snapped him out of the daze and his eyes flickered open. His blinks were heavy, disorientating as he attempted to control himself. 

“D-d-dea” Harry stumbled as he attempted to get his words out. However his head began to swim more as he attempted to say Death’s name. The man’s shoulders hunched at Harry’s pained eyes. 

“Shhh” Death soothed gently. Harry felt himself being picked up into Death’s strong arms. “I’m going to take you to get help Harry.” Death said gently. He rocked Harry gently as he let the boy fall into a comfortable position in his arms. Harry let the rocking motion soothe him, his eyes flickering shut once again. The soothing words that fell from Death’s lips journeyed with him as he let himself slip into unconsciousness. 

* * *

Kid watched his father go, Harry in his arms. He knew that he should go with him. He was worried for Harry. The man had become a part of his life in only two days. He did not want to loose that. He wanted to get to know Harry better. Harry made him feel appreciated. Kid had seen his father’s face more in the past two days than he had in the last three years. He had seen the perfect face adopt the perfect smile more than he had in his entire life. With Harry Kid felt like he was a real person. He felt as though he was not just the son of Death who had issues with control. No, Harry saw him for who he was. Kid was real with Harry. He could be a teenager. He could be who he had always wanted to be. Kid needed to protect someone as pure as Harry. He would never let anyone hurt someone that saw him as more than the son of Death.

“BlackStar” Kid growled out, prowling toward the boy seated on the bench next to his weapon, Tsubaki Nakatsukasa. The girl was comforting the boy who now had a black eye, to match his name. It was a mark that Kid had kindly given him after the boy had lunged at him. Kid grabbed the blue haired boy’s shirt with force, causing the material to rip slightly and BlueStar to be pulled forward.

“You listen and you listen good.” Kid growled out. His voice was dangerous, the air of anger, disgust and danger emitting from him in waves, washing over BlackStar’s skin. “If you _ever_ touch Harry again, then you will no longer have any hands to touch him with.” He growled out. 

BlackStar only let out a short nod before Kid took off. He marched back to the school, anger rolling inside of him. He needed to blow off some steam. He had been on the verge of strangling BlackStar. The thought that Harry may disapprove was the only thing that kept him from it. Kid therefore made his way toward the training rooms. He needed to hit something and a punching bag seemed better than a fellow student.     


	4. Chapter 4

The injury had not been a serious one. A little bit of magic and a good nights sleep and Harry was back to his former self, ready to go back to lessons at the academy. However everything was far from normal. The looks that Harry received on his return to lessons the next day were ones of curiosity and interest. These were looks that Harry had, so far, avoided in his time at the academy. He gave a sigh, it seemed that his anonymity, no matter how brief, was over. Every eye in the class was on him. All of them wanted to know who he was. He was no longer a normal student. No. He had become something else as soon as he had stepped between BlackStar and Kid.

“Harry” Kid’s polished notes came like raindrops on a roof. A sound that was beautiful in its own right. A sound that needed no justification, it simply was. Harry turned his head to see a welcoming look being sent his way. However underlying it there was something more. His eyes were telling another story, from the small, welcoming smile. It was one of suspicion and wariness of others that looked at Harry. It was one of possessiveness.

“Kid” Harry said gently. Kid’s eyes seemed to dim before being replaced by a new light. One that was filled with less fear. Kid instantly seemed to relax as Harry made the few steps over to him, his form becoming less rigid with each movement that Harry made.

Wilson pattered forward, his feet skittering along the wooden floor. His wet nose butted Kid’s hand and Harry had to repress the laughter at the look of disgust that filled Kid’s face; however much the boy tried to repress it. However instead pushing the dog away as Kid would have done with anyone else he instead forced a smile and gave an awkward pat to the scruffy fur. Harry sat down in the seat next to Kid, giving a whistle to Wilson. Although it was amusing to see Kid’s awkward face he felt that he should rescue the boy from the dog. Wilson was a little overly friendly at times.

“So” Kid said, relief rippling over his features as Wilson moved away. “You’re alright?” The question was simple but the reply needed was not. A flippant response would not do. Harry needed to reassure Kid. He needed to reassure himself. Harry clasped Kid’s hand in his own. Green eyes held the gold.

“Your father has made sure that I’m absolutely fine Kid.” Harry said softly, his voice little above a whisper. He gave the pale hand a squeeze. Harry held the boy’s gaze. Kid’s eyes were wide and Harry could see as the trace of fear that had still remained trickled out of them; flowing away and out of sight like a leaf on a stream.

Every eye was on them, but Harry didn't care. He ignored every one. Kid was more important right now. He let the boy search his own eyes, looking for anything; looking for nothing. Harry was not sure, but he let him look all the same. The contact was broken as Kid gave a nod.

“Okay” was the hushed reply before he turned his attention away from Harry and back toward the front of the room where the teacher was entering. However as Harry made the move to take his hand from where it was clasped in Kid’s the boy stopped him. A harsh squeeze to the delicate fingers stopped Harry in his tracks. Their hands remained clasped on the desk for the next two hours. Harry was sure that neither of them took many notes and any that they did take were incomprehensible.

For the rest of the day Harry felt as though he had a second shadow. Kid was close behind him everywhere that he went. The boy said very few words and ignored most of Wilson’s attempt at friendship. However what Kid did object to, was anyone getting within a foot of Harry. Several people Harry had no problem with Kid banishing from sight. However, when, at lunch, Crona approached, Harry objected to the glare that was sent by the overly protective boy sitting at his side.

“Crona” Harry called out as he stood from his seat and followed the pink haired enigma that Harry was intent on making his friend. He caught up with Crona, placing a hand on their shoulder.

“Hey Crona, just ignore Kid.” Harry said with a small smile. “He’s just being grumpy.” With that Harry led the pink haired teen back to the table, forcing them to sit. The tray in their hands clattered to the table as Harry plopped himself back in his own seat. He gave Crona a grin.

For the rest of the meal the three sat, no one daring to approach them. The look that Kid was giving anyone that even looked at Harry was one that promised a painful demise. Therefore with Kid’s glares and Crona’s peculiar reputation no one came within ten feet of the group for the entire meal. Harry was the only one to talk. With the occasional grunt for Kid or a ride eyed nod from Crona. Harry didn't mind. He had chosen to be around these people, despite their peculiarities.

As lunch ended Harry stood, cleaned off his tray and made his way to his next lesson. Wilson gave a happy yip as the pair made their way from the room. However as Harry stepped from the cafeteria he made a new discovery. It seemed that he had two new shadows now.

* * *

“Kid shall we head back to your house?” Harry questioned, a small smile dancing over his features at the look of disgust that played on the boy’s face, before he quickly controlled it. Kid looked conflicted. He did not like people in his house, not at all. They broke the symmetry that he fought so hard to protect. However before Kid could mull over the question any further a burst of laughter pushed its way past Harry’s lips, causing the golden eyes to sparkle in confusion.

“Don’t” Harry huffed out in a half laugh “worry about it Kid.” Harry’s face was bright, cheeks red from laughter and eyes twinkling. “I know you don't want me there.” It was not an accusation. Kid attempted to interrupt. It wasn't that he didn't want Harry there. He didn't want anyone there. It was his place. The only people that had ever been there were his father, Patty and Liz. All of those people knew his rules and followed his instructions. Harry was a wild card. Howe ver before Kid could worry further Harry raised a hand, stopping both the words and the thoughts that swirled in Kid’s head.

“I understand.” Harry said seriously, before he tilted his head with a grin. He pulled the young man into a hug. “I’ll see you later Kid.” Harry said with a smile before running off, Wilson hot on his heels. Harry took the short cut to the field behind the academy a smile on his lips as the wind rushed through his hair. This was as close to flying as he had got since he had died. He wondered if there was any chance that he would ever be able to fly again.

As Harry reached the field, an expanse of overgrown grass, he set his bag down on the ground. He quickly rummaged through it, finding the ball that had managed to wedge itself inside one of his folders. Wilson let out an exited bark as he saw it. Harry grinned and launched the bright red ball as far as he could.

The next hour was spent doing nothing more than playing. Harry and Wilson. Harry let his worries melt away as he threw ball after ball. Harry chased after the exited dog and the two tumbled around in a mock fight. It seemed that the stress of lessons and that his feelings about Death, Kid and Crona were all disappearing. So as the sun began to set Harry could only grin at the beautiful sight as Wilson lay over his chest.

However Harry was broken from the sweet relaxation as a voice broke through the peaceful evening.

“You are peculiar.” Harry shot up, his head whipping around to find the voice. Wilson, getting over his shock at being thrown up so suddenly, quickly followed his master’s gaze. At the entrance to the field stood a man that Harry had seen before. A shock of red hair and hazy blue eyes. Harry was sure that the man before him was not in his right mind. Be it alcohol, drugs or simply self loathing the man was not the one that he had seen only days ago.

“A Master he calls you…But you” he pointed at Harry. “You are weak.” His eyes glinted dangerously as he stepped forward. His intent was clear, the footsteps were precise, even as he stumbled over the words that fell from his lips. Wilson growled.

“You can’t even protect yourself. No; Lord Death, Kid and now this mutt” he said with a sneer at Wilson, spit spewing from his lips as he spat out the ’t’ of his final word.

“What does he see in you.” It was not a question. Harry said nothing as the man continued to step closer and closer, words falling from the venomous lips.

“He does not need you. It would be better for all of us if you were gone.” The red headed man hissed. “A Master” a snort of derision followed his words.

A small snick echoed through the space and the man’s hand, now turned blade, shimmered in the light of the setting sun. Harry tensed as he saw the bitter smile and the deadly weapon that the man had become.

“My daughter hates me, my wife loathes me and now,” the man mumbled, mostly to himself. “now Lord Death? I will not have him taken away as well” the man’s words were becoming quieter, more mumbled, but Harry could still hear them.

Harry felt his instincts kick in as he heard the words. A man protecting something was far more dangerous than any other man could have possibly been. Even with the state that the man was in, he was a threat. A Death Scythe with a point to prove was a dangerous weapon indeed.

“Wilson” Harry growled out in a low voice. He did not need another innocent being hurt in a fight that was not theirs. He had had enough of that to last a life time. Thankfully the dog got the message. Wilson scampered away. Not out of sight, but far enough that he was no longer in any danger of being harmed by the rouge weapon. Harry instantly felt better. It appeared Wilson had enough sense to know when to retreat. However the constant growls still reverberated from the dog’s chest, an indication that he may not stay in his given place for long.

“What do you want?” Harry growled out equally as viciously as Wilson. His eyes piercing, danger shimmering in them. As spirit saw the killer green he faltered slightly. His feet stumbling and an unexplained lump in his throat. He stopped, only for a second.

However the man ignored his instincts. He let his feet lead him closer as his second hand now became another glinting blade. He looked at Harry in scorn and derision; although his eyes were not fully focused. Harry stood his ground. His feet firmly planted and his eyes hard. He had never been one to back down from a fight. As the man got within a foot of Harry he answered the question.

“I” he took a step

“want” and another

“you” another

“gone” he stopped.

His face was inches from Harry’s his breath pungent. It was clear what the man’s drug of choice was. Alcohol was strong on the air and with each exhale of breath Spirit filled the space between him and Harry with more toxic fumes.

“Tough shit” Harry’s voice cut through the tension as he brought up his fist, smashing it into the weapon’s face with all his might. The red headed man stumbled back, blood now gushing from his nose. He smiled.

“It seems you’re not as weak as I thought” Spirit chuckled. The sound was muffled and a wince crossed his features as he spoke. Although it seemed that much of the pain was dulled by the alcohol. Wiping away the blood, which was soon replaced by more, Spirit bared his teeth. It was not a smile. It was a declaration of war.

He ran for Harry, his right hand extended read to strike. Harry dodged the blow and then let his fighting instincts take over. Harry ducked below the second blade. As he moved from yet another strike his fingers began to tingle, the feeling spreading into his hands. Feeling intention in his movements he thrust his hand up and watched as a red spark shot from his palm. It was only the highly trained reflexes that kept Spirit from being hit as he leapt back.

Harry saw the shock in the man’s eyes at the lights that now sparked from his hands. However it did not cause him to stop, or even slow down. Spirit continued his attacks on Harry, over and over, his blades slicing at the boy. Harry was not sure whether it was the alcohol or the training that kept him from his questioning, but Harry did not have time to ponder it at that moment.

He managed to put several hits on the man before him, just as the man put many on him. He now had several cuts littering his arms that were bleeding sluggishly. Spirit was not doing much better. The man’s nose was steadily streaming blood and he could no longer see from one eye due to the swelling from Harry’s earlier punch. Several sparks had skimmed him, casing a few bruises and cuts, as well as a nasty rash to spread up one arm and under his clothes; only to appear peeping out of the neck of his shirt. Harry was not intent on heavily hurting the man, merely incapacitating him. So when the chance came, he took it.

Harry slid his foot behind Spirit’s own and watched as he stumbled, a misstep. It bought Harry a couple of seconds. Gathering all the power that he could in each hand Harry sent a stunner, bright red and violent towards the man. Spirit dodged, stumbling again. Before the man had a chance to right himself he sent another. A shining ball of raw power that hit the man square in the chest. He went down. His body slumped to the soft grass, consciousness slipping from his grasp.

Harry’s knees gave way and thumped to the ground. He let out a shuddering breath before quickly pulling the air back into his lungs. Harry’s thoughts were jumbled as he attempted to return his breathing to normal. How had he done that? He had never been able to do wordless, let alone wandless magic before. Yet he had just done both; repeatedly. He felt drained and yet strangely satisfied.

Harry let his eyes flicker back to the now unconscious Spirit Albarn. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

It turned out that Harry had had to do very little. He had sat on the grass, thinking, for about fifteen minutes before Spirit rocketed up from his position on the grass. He let out a load groan as he sat up, his hands shooting to his head. Several seconds stretched on as Harry watched the man, the teacher, the Death Scythe; as he did little more than rub his swollen eyes and wince at the feeling.

When Spirit finally looked up to see Harry there was a look of shock, shame and slight fear reflected in the blue eyes. Harry only raised a brow, not wishing to start anything more than Spirit already had. Wilson let out a warning growl. Spirit quickly averted his eyes from the piercing green and pushed his way up from the soft grass. Not looking at Harry again and not saying a word Spirit made his way from the field, first stumbling and then jogging as he found his footing. Harry watched him go.

A few more minutes passed before Harry decided that he need return to his home. It was November and the darkening sky did little to help the cold temperature of the month. Death would also worry if Harry stayed out much longer. Harry gave Wilson a pat on his head and a sad smile as he walked from the long grass that still rustled in the wind.

Harry returned through the large black double doors that defined the entrance to the quarters that he shared with Lord Death. Harry stumbled through them with a sigh as Wilson let out a whine. Harry just wanted to have a nice hot shower and then collapse into his bed. He was far too drained to do anything else. However it seemed that any plans that Harry may or may not have had were of little concern; as when he entered the room he was met with Death’s face. It looked like thunder.

“Master” he growled out. His eyes were flecked with worry and anger. He rushed forward, his strides purposeful. Harry looked up with weary eyes.

“Death” Harry sighed “Not now” Harry was far too tired to be dealing with the overly protective being that stood before him. However it seemed that Death was far from cooperative.

“Master, where have you been?” Death growled out. He was now directly in front of Harry, his eyes bearing into Harry’s with an intensity that Harry could never remember seeing in the man before.

“I…” Harry mumbled, his voice quiet, filled with utter weariness. “I don’t want to talk about it right now Death.” Harry sighed.

“No” Death growled out, his voice harsh, leaving no room for argument. “Tell me.” Death clutched Harry’s arm. His grip was not harsh, however it caused a flinch to ripple through Harry’s form. It had caused one of his wounds to be jolted, the delicate scab breaking and a trickle of blood leaking down his arm.

“What was that?” Death pulled at Harry’s sleeve to reveal the numerous cuts and the now bleeding gash that was spreading across Harry’s arm. Harry said nothing.

“Master” Death growled. “What. Happened?” Even with the honorific his words were still demanding. They were forcing Harry to speak. He may be the being’s Master, but before Harry stood the Lord that everyone respected and feared. The being that ended your life and took your soul for his own. The most formidable force in the world.

Harry raised his eyes, green clashing with an angry gold that shimmered in the dimly lit room. He let out a sigh.

“Spirit” he whispered. Death raised a brow, his hand tightening on Harry’s pale arm.

“Spirit?” he questioned. His voice filled with suspicion and disbelief. “Spirit Albarn?” The voice was higher now, Harry could feel the anger radiating from the four syllables. Harry could only nod.

Death’s eyes raged, the inferno sparking, the gold eyes adopting an almost angry red. However as soon as it came, it was gone. His grip on Harry relaxed and a large breath escaped his lungs. His hand dropped to his leg with a small slap as the palm connected with the black material of his trousers. His eyes were sad. That was the defining emotion that Harry now saw reflected in them.

“Ah” Death said with a sigh. The word a little more than a puff of air escaping from the pink lips.

“Come on Harry, lets get those seen to.” Death said with a sad smile. He took Harry’s hand in his own and gently led him through the rooms. Death made his way into the living room and gently pushed Harry onto the couch.

“Out of that Master” Death soothed, pulling the shirt from Harry’s skinny form. The cuts were revealed. Three across his chest, two on his right arm and the one that death had already seen on Harry’s left. Harry winced as the material was pulled from the wounds, the scabs having tentatively formed with some of the material still in them. Blood began to trickle from several of them.

Death’s eyes widened. He set a gentle hand on his Master’s arms. His words were gentle, even if they were meaningless to Harry. As Death’s words reached their completion Harry felt a wave of contentedness, a warmth that comforted him, as though he had been engulfed in a hug. The wounds Harry had sustained gradually began to heal. Blood returned to its original place, scabs forming over the broken skin, before they slowly faded to nothing more than white lines littering his skin. Soon even those faded. There was nothing left of the pain. Harry looked up.

“Thanks” he whispered out. His eyes downcast, a slight blush marring his cheeks. Death gave a nod, even if it was one that Harry could not see.

“Master.” Death said quietly. He took Harry’s chin in his hand, forcing their eyes to meet. “It’s okay Master” Death soothed. He pulled Harry toward him.

The hug was a short one, however it was meaningful to both. It felt longer than the few seconds that it really lasted. It spoke of the care, the reassurance and the love that both men wanted and needed from each other and to give to one another.

“Night Death” Harry whispered as he stood from the embrace.

“Goodnight Master” Death responded. 


	5. Chapter 5

Death was, for the next few days, overprotective, to say the least. He would not allow Harry to go to classes. Only for the next two days he said. Only until the start of the new week. Harry was not sure that he believed him. Harry was kept by the being’s side for the whole of the first day and most of the second, following each and every work decision that he needed to make. He spent most of that time invisible. Thankfully on the third day, the weekend blossomed like a glorious flower. Harry was grateful for it. The day came like a blessing. Death did not have to work on weekends.

Harry had missed Death. He knew that he spent his time by his side. He knew that he was there, in the literal sense; but in another way he was not. During the day his role was a master. During the evenings and the weekend it was different. They were different. Harry wasn't sure what it was, but they were not the same when the others weren't looking. Even when Harry and Death weren't looking. When Harry’s thoughts were not on his predicament, not on the fact that he had more power than he ever thought possible over a being that should terrify him in every way. When Harry let all that fade away from him, he was different with Death. Death was different with him.

Harry woke on the Saturday morning, relatively early, curled in a ball under his blanket. He was cold. Wilson had wandered off, bored at his sleeping master. Harry was missing the dog’s warmth. With a small shiver and a groan Harry pulled himself from the bed, pulling the blanket with him. Like a small child Harry pulled the blanket over his head and shuffled down the corridor. He pushed open the door to Death’s room and with still blurry eyes he pulled himself under the covers. Within seconds he was asleep again; Death providing the warmth that he was seeking.

Harry awoke later, slightly disorientated. His head was buried in something warm, his breathing keeping his cheeks flushed. His body was comfortably warm and he snuggled further into the warmth below him. He snuffled slightly, a yawn pushing its way from his mouth.

“Master” a gruff voice hummed out sleepily, before the voice was engulfed in a yawn. Harry’s eyes flickered open to be met with the solid and naked chest of Death; he blushed. Harry’s face became uncomfortably hot as he pushed back slightly from the muscled chest.

“Morning Death” Harry mumbled out, his flush only darkening further as the gold glittering eyes looked down at him.

“Hmmm” Death hummed with a smile on his face. Death set a hand on Harry’s chest looking at the young man that had moments ago been lying on him with a smirk. “Good Morning”

Death pushed himself up, using Harry’s chest as a support. As Harry watched the being, he saw something in his eyes. It was akin to hunger. Death’s eyes wondered lazily up and down Harry’s body. He gave a fond smile as his eyes met sparking green.

Harry fond himself frozen under the man’s gaze. His heart was hammering in his chest as the eyes met his and he gave a shy smile in return. The blush on his face was even hotter than before. The eyes skirted up the form of the man before him, reaching up to his face. Their eyes clashed before Harry’s eyes wondered down to the perfectly pink lips.

Death’s other hand came close to Harry’s face, his fingers gently trailing along Harry’s cheek. Harry’s gaze remained focused on the face of the man above him. He was beautiful. The thought came unbidden into his mind and Harry felt shocked by it. It was not something that he had ever considered before. The way the man’s eyes sparkled. The disheveled hair and the quirked lips.

“Lets get breakfast Master” Death ruffled Harry’s hair and pulled himself from his bed. Harry watched as the half naked man pulled on his dressing gown and then made his way into the kitchen.

Harry spent the rest of the day in turmoil. He found his eyes glued to the man that called him Master. He watched the man’s every step and every action, unable to take his eyes from him. He found himself caught several times as amused gold eyes met his own. Of course he flushed, his embarrassment reaching ridiculous levels. He found himself wondering if his face would ever be a normal colour again.

Kid came round later that day, as lunch was being made. The young man was slightly flustered, aggravated by something. Something that he did not share with Harry. Instead Harry did all that he could to calm the child down. No matter whether Kidd was willing to share his problems or not, Harry would still be there for him. Harry sat with Kidd, the two drinking tea; Harry attempting to coax conversation from the boy that sat by his side.

By the end of the visit Kidd was seemingly much less aggravated. His obsessive fiddling with his sleeves had ceased, his desire for each to be the perfect length, diminished somewhat. Harry deemed that to be a success. The fact that Harry had also been distracted from Death’s form was an added bonus. However as Kidd came to leave Harry felt the thoughts pressing down on him. Although Harry reigned in the wave of emotion that threatened to soak him until the thoughts began to drip from his hair like raindrops.

Harry was sure that his thoughts, were he to let them run wild, would effect more than just himself. Even as he let a small trickle of emotion run through him, he noticed the newly standing Kid flinch, his hand reaching for his sleeve. Harry pulled the thoughts back. He failed to realise how much his mood effected Death and his son until he saw it first hand. Harry wondered how the pair had coped when Harry himself had been depressed. Although he supposed, that like himself, they could, to an extent, shut off how effected they were by Harry’s emotions. Although in such close proximity it was difficult to shut ones self off completely.

Harry pulled Kid into a hug as the boy began to make his way from the rooms. He gave a small and reassuring smile. He wanted the boy to know that he was there for him. Even if both of them did have other things on their minds.

“I’ll make dinner tomorrow?” Harry’s question was more of an invitation. He would be making the meal no matter the presence of the boy or not. Harry loved cooking and Sunday dinners had become a ritual for him. Especially after the death of his Godfather and his time spent at the Dursley’s. It seemed to be the only constant that he had had during that summer. Cooking three meals a day and baking desserts on a regular basis had kept Harry from spiralling too far into the depression that had tried to consume him.

“Okay” Kid agreed “I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that the young man made his way from the rooms. Harry hoped that whatever had been distracting the boy would be solved, or easier for him to deal with tomorrow.

Harry looked toward Death with a small smile, his eyes not meeting the gold. Instead a small pink blush had lit up his cheeks. Harry just couldn't stop thinking of the man’s hard chest and tall form.  
“I’m going to take Wilson out to play” Harry mumbled to the man. Harry didn't see the smirk that pulled at Death’s lips as he went.

* * *

 

Monday morning before lessons began, it seemed that Death judged Harry capable enough to judge his attacker. The morning was one that was sure to be filled with conflict. Harry had to let out a sigh. It seemed this would follow the pattern of the rest of his life quite nicely. Death thought it was better for Harry to be present but unseen during the Judgment of Spirit. Death was unsure how aggressive the man would still be if he caught sight of Harry.

Harry stood, invisible to all, to the right of Death, slightly behind the man that was his servant, as the Death Scythe entered the Death Room. Death had the ridiculous gloves along with the mask still firmly in place. Yet the man had a much more serious air about him. The redhead looked nervous at the air of malice that seemed to seep from the masked form before him. Harry gave a half smile. The man should be scared. After all he had done Harry was shocked that the man had not already been blasted in two by the overprotective Death.

“Spirt Albarn, you are here to be judged.” Harry had to repress a snicker as he heard the worlds. Who would have thought that Death would like to be so utterly dramatic. He had even gone so far as to gradually cause his mask to look more skull like as he spoke. Only very gradually; yet Harry was able to notice as the definition grew. The teeth became less sharp; while the eye and nose sockets seemed to morph slightly to match the face of the man that stood before them. It was as though the red head was seeing the mask gradually become his own skull. At that thought a hand had to come up to cover the snort that Harry was sure he was about to release.

“Do you have any defence for why you attacked one, Harry Potter?”

Spirit seemed to have become temporarily mute as his mouth opened and closed several times. Harry guessed it was the skull. He had to suppress another laugh as he realised that. He let out a slow and soft breath attempting to still his spasming face muscles. He had to resort to a strong bite on the inside of his cheek. It did little to help.

It seemed that during his near laughing fit, that Spirit had regained his voice.

“He was a threat to you Lord Death. I did as is proper for any Death Scythe. I attempted to deal with the threat. I did not deem is presence as…” However before he got a chance to finish his speech that, in all probability, had been rehearsed to within an inch of its life, he was interrupted.

“You deemed yourself fit to judge what was a threat to me?” It was not a question. “You think your own ability to make decisions above that of my own?” It was a quite growl. Harry was no longer laughing. “I, Lord Death, the ruler of who lives and who dies from the time that life began, you deemed your judgement above my own?”

Death’s form changed. He seemed to grow taller, his aura growing darker and more menacing. The mask no longer resembled anything that it had at the beginning of the meeting. It had instead developed to a harsh grey, cracks appearing along its surface. It looked exactly like the skull of Spirt Albarn would if it had been left to rot in the sun for a hundred years.

“You, who deems your own judgement above my own has no place at my side. I believe that permanently stripping you of all your titles and banning you from school grounds is the most appropriate course of action.” The word ‘DEATH’ in harsh white writing grew upon the robes of the being before Harry.

“That” he whispered “or I tear your head from your shoulders and leave it at the school gates as a warning to other.” Spirit Shuddered.

Harry paused. Something felt wrong here. The thought of the man leaving. It didn’t sit well with him. It felt awkward, painful even. He wasn’t sure what it was. It was as though his magic was protesting to the words that Death spoke. He wasn’t sure what the feeling was, didn’t know what had prompted it. It was an itch under his skin and the more aggression that Death showed toward the red head the harder it got to ignore.

Death took a step forward and Harry couldn’t stop himself.

“No” he whispered out.

Time froze. For a second nothing happened. No movement from anyone in the room at the solitary word that was whispered. It seemed to spread for an eternity.

Harry dropped his invisibility and like a shock of electricity the heart of the room began to beat again. As Harry took a step forward the violet visage that Death had portrayed seemed to melt away. He was back to the mask and robes that Harry so detested. Death looked to Harry. Harry suspected that under the mask was confusion and expectation.

“It…” Harry took a breath as he tried to explain what it was that he was feeling. The itch had decreased yet his magic was still aggravated. It seemed to ripple through him insistently as Harry tried to interpret what it was that it wanted.

“It’s not right. He’s-that is-he, he has to stay” Harry knew it didn’t make sense even as the words formed on his tongue. “He’s mine, well no, he’s ours.” Harry rubbed his temples.

“You can’t banish him.” Those were the words that he needed. Harry’s magic seemed to hum at him.

“Master, you-“ Death tried. Harry raised a hand. He stopped. Harry couldn’t understand his own thoughts at the moment. He didn’t notice the strain in his servant’s voice. His brain could not deal with another’s thoughts. Spirit remained frozen. Harry couldn’t find the time to question the uncharacteristic behaviour.

“I-I can’t really explain it, but he’s sort of…ours. You’ve, well you’ve” he couldn’t find the word. “you’ve claimed him.” That seemed to fit. “He’s yours and so he is mine” his magic tingled. It seemed it was satisfied with his words.

“You can’t just get rid of him” Harry let out a breath. That was right. His magic seemed satisfied. With a final fizzle it seemed that the pressure lifted and his breathing eased.

It was only that Harry seemed to notice the strange behaviour of those around him. Spirit let out gasp and staggered on his feet. He seemed to sway slightly. Death himself seemed to need to steady his form. Harry looked at the pair, slightly perplexed at their reactions. Death, seeing his look attempted to explain.

“Your magic Master.” Death breathed. “It desired Spirt to stay, so he had to.” Death took another breath. “It seemed that it wished for my presence gone. The force of it was…taxing to say the least.” Another breath. “Once you explained, it seemed your magic was satisfied. But I believe it took a lot out of myself and Spirit.”

The words took a moment to sink in. The magic that he had felt bubble under his skin had spread across the entire room. Even of Harry felt fine it seemed that magic had not been so kind on those around him.

With a quick wave of his hand and a few whispered words two sofas appeared on the dais.

“Sit” Harry ordered softly. Spirt quickly let his legs give way. With a small puff of air he let himself fall onto the soft seat that had just appeared behind him. Death, it seemed was not so easily swayed. Harry walked to him.

“Gloves off” Harry ordered. With a sigh from the man they quickly disappeared. Harry gently took the hand in his own and lead the stubborn deity toward the sofa he had created. Harry sat before puling the man down with him.

“I’m sorry, both of you” Harry spoke quietly. “I had not realised I was having such a violent response. Although I am not sure that my magic will want Spirit out of my sight for a while.”

* * *

 

Harry had been proved right and it seemed that he had been destined to miss yet more lessons because of events that were out of his control. Well, that was not totally true, in fact Harry had been able to attend the lessons that Spirit had taught. Harry had discovered that he was able to hide Wilson, along with himself, as he sat in the classroom. So Harry sat before a group of older students as he ran his fingers through Wilson’s fur.

Death had been intent on forcing the pair, along with Spirit, to stay in Death’s rooms. However that would have meant cancelling lessons for all of the students for an indefinite length of time. Harry did not wish for the students to miss their classes and neither did Spirit.

The phrase that an auror that he once knew echoed through his head. Always be prepared. They may be students but that did not mean that they were safe. Harry knew that. He had experienced every danger that a student should avoid. The students may think that they were safe, but Harry knew that it was better to be prepared than killed.

Harry watched the students that sat before him with a fond nostalgia. Even if these young people were learning how to fight and to take souls, it still seemed as though they were innocent. They were untouched by danger to their own lives. They had not lost their friends and relatives. They did not know that pain. Harry sighed. Was it only his life that would be so fucked up? It hurt so much. Even all those people that he had saved, he would never see them again. Teddy, his little godson, would grow up without knowing him. He would hear the stories, he would be told of Harry and of his parents. But he would grow up alone. Harry could not be there for him.

Ignoring the students and Spirit Harry exited the classroom, Wilson pattering behind him. His eyes were suspiciously tearful as he nearly ran from the classroom. He needed to get out. He felt as though he was suffocating. The feeling of reassurance that he had had around Spirit for the past three days seemed have vanished. Instead he needed to get out. He wanted comfort, but not the forced intimacy that he had with Death. He did not want his magic to force the connections that he felt to people. He wanted real connection and real emotions.

As Harry exited the classroom he let his invisibility drop from both himself and Wilson. He wandered along the corridor in a slight daze as he thought about his life and the experiences that had forced him into the position that he was in now. He rubbed a hand through his hair as his feet took him through the school, without really noticing where he was going.

Harry thought of all the people that he had lost, of all the lives that had been prematurely ended. He thought of those that he would never see again. He knew that he would never die and so his family was lost to him. Sirius, how he missed Sirius. The man still haunted his dreams. The pale face as he fell through the veil. That was a love that he was sure he would never have again. The love of parent, a love without demand or expectation.

Harry wondered out of the school and for the first time he found himself walking around Death City. It was nice to be out in the fresh air. He kept a hand tightly in Wilson’s fur; a lifeline, as he walked through the empty streets. He looked at the different shops, wondering the kind of people that shopped here. Wondering who it was that gave themselves a life of servitude to a deity that could end their life in a flash.

Harry saw the name of a cafe before him and let out a loud snort. The name itself was enough to snap him out of the self pity and mourning that had engulfed him. Harry was being pathetic, he knew that. He thought that he had rid himself of this self indulgence. However seeing all those bright eyed faces had made him realise just how fucked his life had been.

Harry looked at the coffee shop again and grinned. He gripped tighter in Wilson’s fur as he let out a small giggle at the name.

‘Deathbucks Cafe’

What a ridiculous name he thought as he headed closer to the shop.

“What do you think Wilson, fancy a coffee?” Harry said with a small grin. The shop called to him, he wasn’t sure why. Wilson gave a small bark and Harry took that as all the confirmation that he needed.

“Come on then Wilson.” Harry said with a genuine smile as he headed into the shop.

Harry pushed the door open and the bell jingled as he entered. He looked around. The room was filled with amber chairs and mahogany tables. A handsome bar stood against one wall, behind which an equally handsome man stood. The man looked bored as he ran a cloth around the rim of an empty glass.

However as he saw Harry enter he looked up with calm indifference. He set his glass down, while setting his cloth under the bar.

“Welcome” he said in a gruff voice that Harry found somehow familiar. The man had black hair that sat messily around his head, as well as a light shading of stubble. His eyes were a piercing grey and Harry felt as though they were looking into his soul.

“What can I get you?” the man asked.

Harry blinked. It had only just hit him that he had no money, not a penny to his name.

“Ummm” Harry thought out as Winston took a step forward away from him.

“I don’t have any money, so-“ However before Harry could finish it seemed that Wilson interrupted. The dog had somehow found his way behind the bar and was now forcing his way toward the man. He nuzzled at the man’s leg; demanding attention.

Harry blinked in shock. Wilso was not usually one to be overly friendly with people. The only person that Harry had seen him demand attention from before was Harry himself. Harry scampered behind the bar, quickly attempting to grab Wilson’s collar.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry apologised as he pulled the dog away from the man. “He’s never normally like this, Wilson is normally very well behaved.”

The man, however, seemed unconcerned as he looked to Harry. He simply raised his eyebrows slightly, before he knelt down to pet the dog before him.

“Don’t worry about it.” He looked up to Harry again. “I have a…camaraderie with most dogs,” he explained as he ran his hand through Wilson’s shaggy fur once more, before he stood.

“How about some water and a few treats for this one,” he indicated to Wilson. “and I would join you for a coffee? The shop is deserted after all” Harry looked to the man.

“But I don’t have any-“

“On the house” the man interrupted. “Find a seat, I’ll be back in a minute.”

The man disappeared into the back room and Harry sat at one of the tables. The man somehow made him feel comfortable, and if Wilson liked him, Harry was inclined to trust him. Harry looked up as the man set down a dog bowl at his feet, before he sat down opposite Harry and handed him a large mug of coffee.

“Enjoy” he said with a small quirk of his lips.


End file.
